The Owl of Ostwick
by Beartic Baseborn
Summary: During the talks to quell the Mage Rebellion, the Temple of Sacred Ashes is destroyed, leaving only one survivor. This lone survivor must gather his allies from across Thedas and form the Inquisition.
1. Prologue

The Owl of Ostwick

Prologue: Fading

Dripping. That was the only word he could associate with the environment he woke up in. Energy was dripping from the air to the ground, the power of the Fade falling down around him.

The thick, damp darkness surrounding him was illuminated only by a faint green light, letting him see the floating rocks and barren waste that was the realm of dreams. Feeling a sharp pain on his left hand, he looked down and saw a glowing, green scar on his palm that released green sparks of magic.

 _What,_ he thought, staring down at it. It was something that he had never seen before, and the kind of magic it emitted was as foreign to him as the area he was in.

 _How did I get here,_ he wondered looking around. He was actually there, in the Fade. This wasn't a projection of his mind, he didn't travel here in his dreams. He was _physically_ in the Fade. Unheard of since the ancient Tevinter Magisters caused the First Blight.

Not only had he done an impossible thing, but he couldn't even remember it. His former mentor, Lydia, would hex him into oblivion for not remembering such details, _she always did have skewed priorities._

Cradling his left hand to his chest, he looked around trying to find some clue as to how he got there, or someone else that was here physically like him.

As he turned around he noticed a shining, gold light coming from above him. Looking up he saw a form, glowing with warmth. As he looked directly at it, the figure pulsed with energy, blinding him temporarily.

Holding his other hand up to cover his eyes, he began to walk down the path leading to the figure.

Beginning his trek down the path, he stopped beside a puddle of what he saw was green-tinted water. Looking down, he saw his reflection in it. His dark hair was dirty and a complete mess and his hazel eyes were bloodshot. His face was covered in dirt and dried blood from the scratches on his head.

 _What happened,_ he wondered, touching a wound on his forehead that reached his temple and wincing, _that's gonna scar._

Looking back up at the figure, he saw it beckoning him. Its arm outstretched towards him, as if it was seeking his aid.

Returning to his task, he began to walk up the path again, going past jagged stalagmites and a river of similar green water. The longer he walked, the further away the plateau seemed to be.

After what felt like an hour of walking, he noticed the path reached an incline before a cliff face with a ladder-like wall. As he reached the end of the path, he heard a faint screeching behind him.

Turning sharply, he saw spider-like beings rushing at him from behind, _Fearlings_. Manifestations of subconscious fears. They may even take the form of a fear, that the victim hadn't even realised they had.

 _Of course it was spiders,_ he thought to himself. Spiders had always been a sore point to him since a childhood incident involving them. Turning forward again, he took off with renewed energy.

Reaching the wall he began to climb the cliff. Pulling himself up each step, his muscles burned from exertion, but he didn't dare slow down.

More than half-way there, he looked down and saw the grotesque spiders beginning to climb as well. Their beady, black eyes trained on him, and their fangs spread ready to rip him apart.

He was almost to the top when the glowing figure reached down to him. Its hand almost touching his. But still too far away.

 _Help me,_ he prayed. Whether it was to the Maker or this spirit, he wasn't sure. Just as their hands touched there was a flash of light, which blinded him to his surroundings.

The next thing he knew he was being thrown to the ground, where the air was charged with magic, and the heat of the ground burned at him.

As he began to lose consciousness, he heard something. A strong, authoritative voice ordered, "Scout Harding, inform the Seeker and Nightingale. There is a survivor!"

"Yes, commander!" Another voice replied.

"Rylen, find me something to bind him," the first voice growled. Another affirmative to the order followed. Then the owner of the first voice must have leaned down, as what as said next was right at his ear, "If you did this, not even the maker will give you mercy from me!"

After that final snarl, he faded into darkness, hoping that he was back in Thedas and not still in the Fade.


	2. Chapter 1

The Owl of Ostwick

Chapter 1: The Seeker, the Dwarf and the Apostate

When he awoke, it was to the dripping of water on his face. Blinking his eyes open, he noticed that he was kneeling on a cold, damp floor. The strange mark on his hand began to spark again, causing him to flinch. The foreign magic seemed to leech off and attack his own.

The arcs of energy began to travel up over his hand and forearm. _What is happening,_ he thought, frustrated with this unknown. He never liked not knowing about something. Whenever he came across a new form of magic, he studied it relentlessly until he knew everything he could about it. _Fat chance of that happening now…_

Looking up he saw that he was surrounded by four soldiers, their swords drawn and pointed at him. _What do they think I'm going to do,_ he thought looking at his bound hands. Perhaps they thought that he would attack them with blood magic. If he wasn't bound up and unable to rely on his magic, he would have rolled his eyes. _Maker, I sound like one of those bloody rebel mages_.

As he contemplated this, the door he was facing was kicked open. _Here we go then,_ he mastered himself, training his expression like Lydia told him to. The figure in the door was silhouetted in the dim light behind him. Though not the biggest, in terms of stature, the figure seemed to hold himself in a manner that demanded attention and respect.

Stepping forward, the figure's face was illuminated by a torch hanging on a wall. _A woman,_ he thought in surprise, _an impressive woman at that._ Though the light was dim, he saw that she had a harsh beauty to her. Hard lines sculpting her face, her Nevarran heritage was evident in her appearance. He also noticed scars lining the left side of her face.

Judging from the scowl on her face and the way she scrutinised him, she was clearly not as impressed with him, as he was with her.

Taking in her armour, he realised that she was a seeker, the symbol of the all-seeing eye of the Chantry prominent on her chest. _Must be serious if a seeker is here,_ he took in the woman that came in behind her. Her he recognised.

 _Shit,_ he cursed. A seeker was one thing, but the Bard? While he had never had the pleasure of meeting her, Sister Leliana was an infamous spy, whose legend spoke of her involvement with the Fifth Blight as one of the companions to the Hero of Ferelden.

Her short, red hair was hidden under the indigo hood of her chain-mail habit, and her blue eyes were trained on him. Taking in every detail of their prisoner. Of his two captors, he knew to be wary of her. The seeker could break his body, Leliana could break his spirit.

The seeker stomped down the steps, and then began to circle him, hoping to intimidate. While she was doing this, he saw Leliana take an aborted step forward, before settling into a subtle, threatening stance. _What happened to get that reaction,_ he wondered.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," he heard the seeker growl in his ear. She bent low to reach him, the hilt of her sword seen at the edge of his vision.

"The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead," she paused as she stood before him, "Except for you."

 _What?_ "What do you mean everyone's dead?" he exclaimed, shocked.

The seeker picked up his left hand, and demanded, "Explain _this_ ," just as it began to spark again.

"I can't," he said, _though I wish I could._

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I don't know what that is, or how it got there."

"You're lying!" she bellowed, lunging for him, fisting his tunic.

Leliana stepped in then, pulling the seeker away from him, and spoke for the first time, "We need him Cassandra."

Cassandra. There were few seekers with that name. Cassandra Pentaghast, known for her involvement in the Kirkwall Uprising. And Nevarran royalty.

But still, the Conclave. The only hope Thedas had to quell the Mage Rebellion.

"I can't believe it. All those people… dead?"

Leliana walked forward then, "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

"I remember running. Fearlings were chasing me, and then… a woman?" He tried to think back, to what he remembered last. _Was she a woman or spirit? Best not mention anything about spirits yet, until I know more about them._

The bard leached onto that piece of information, "A woman?"

"She reached out to me, but then…" he stopped. He couldn't remember. What had happened?

Cassandra took charge again, "Go to the forward camp, Leliana," she lead the other woman to the door, "I will take him to the Rift."

Cassandra then walked over to him, and knelt down. As he watched her, he saw that she wasn't as angry as before. _She lost someone important at the Conclave…_

 _Of course,_ he thought in a moment of realisation, _Most Holy was there._

"What did happen?" he asked, his eyes searching her own.

Her expression fell even more, and he realised that it was even graver than he believed. _The Conclave was destroyed, of course it was grave._

"It will be easier to show you," she answered, her voice catching slightly. He had to give her, her due credit. A lesser person, man or woman, would have crumbled under the weight the seeker is carrying.

She helped him up to his feet, and began to lead him out of the cell. As he followed Cassandra out into the open, the soldier at the door muttered, "Be careful mage. Many people died because of you and yours."

He flinched when the light of day hit his eyes, temporarily blinded. When he could see again, he saw that he was in a quaint village. The border of which was a wall of wooden beams. _Haven, I think_.

Hearing what he thought was thunder, he looked up to the sky. Or at least tried to, the sky was blanketed completely by dark grey clouds. Flashes of green lit them up, like lightning. Looking over to the mountain top where the Temple of Sacred Ashes stood, he was shocked.

A funnel of Fade energy emanated from what appeared to be a hole in the sky. Boulders of some kind floating within the energy funnel, as arcs of green lightning flash across the sky. Glowing, green objects seemed to fall from the opening and fall towards the ground.

Cassandra, having stopped to watch his reaction, spoke as she looked over to the rift, "We call it 'the Breach.' It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour," she turned back to him, "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"An explosion can do that?" _How powerful was this detonation?_

"This one did," she replied, walking over to him, "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the World."

 _Well, isn't she dram-_

He screams as the mark flashes, the fade energy drifting from it to encompass his entire hand. This coincided with the expansion of the Breach, the sky lighting up green.

 _Andraste's arse!_ He screamed internally, falling to his knees, _that was the strongest episode yet_.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you," Cassandra kneeled down in front of him, looking him in the eye, "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

"You say it _may_ be the key… to doing what?" he asked, _surely she doesn't mean…_

"To closing the Breach. Whether that's possible is something we shall discover shortly," she answered, before continuing, "It is our only chance, however. And yours."

 _And mine?_ he thought, suddenly incensed, "You still think I did this? To _myself_?"

She considered him carefully, her eyes betraying the doubt she felt at her words, "Not intentionally. _Something_ clearly went wrong."

"And if I'm not responsible?"

"Someone is, and you are our only suspect," Cassandra's gaze became firm, "You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way."

He took in a deep breath, considering her words, _perhaps this is the only way that I can find out what happened._

Letting out a sigh, he looked at Cassandra, "I understand. When do we leave?"

Cassandra's eyes widened, as if she didn't dare hope that he would agree so willingly, "Then…?"

"I'll do what I can. Whatever it takes to find out what happened at the Conclave."

She searched his face again to see if there was any deception there. Finding none, she nodded to herself before standing up and walking over to help him up from the ground. Though 'help' was a loose term, she pulled him up roughly by the arm and pushed him through the small settlement.

As they walked through Haven, he noticed the staring from the people around them. Refugees if her were to guess.

Next he heard the muttering; the sound of disapproval buzzed around them as they passed the refugees.

He saw soldiers around them pointing and whispering about him. Their faces told him the theme of their conversations.

"It's him."

"He blew up the Temple!"

"He murdered Most Holy!"

"Look Harritt, it's him!" he looked over to the side at some large tents to see a tall, bald man with a moustache look at him gravely.

"They have decided your guilt. They need it," Cassandra told him, noticing where his attention was.

The walked passed another tent, he noticed a woman with a plumed hat glaring at him, though her anger was tinged with grief.

"The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, the head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers."

The seeker led him out past the wooden gates of Haven and to the path up the mountain. Her grip on him slacked slightly, and he knew that she was lost in a memory of the late Divine.

"It was a chance for peace between Mages and Templars," she said as they reached the gate leading to the bridge, "She brought them their leaders together. Now, they are dead."

As the gate opened, and the pair walked up, Cassandra continued, "We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did," they walked through the gate, and Cassandra overtook him, "Until the Breach is sealed."

Unsheathing a dagger, she turned around to face him, "There will be a trial. I can promise no more."

She cut the rope that binds his hands together, and gave what he thought might be a smile. _Void take me, I must be going insane_.

"Come. It is not far."

"Where are you taking me?"

Cassandra said nothing else, just walked across the bridge towards the other gate. He followed closely behind, rubbing his sore wrists, as small flashes of green energy arced from his left hand.

They passed a small group of soldiers who were being spoken to by a cleric, "Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written."

"Open the gate! We are heading into the valley." Cassandra called up to the gatekeeper.

As they exited the other side of the gate, he noticed the groups of soldiers stationed on the path up into the valley. They were standing behind barricades, with their weapons at the ready to deal with any immediate attack.

 _What are they looking for?_

"Let's go," she said walking up to his side, "We need to get to the other side of the valley."

As they walked up the hill, he saw the nervousness and fear on the faces of the soldiers. Noticing another falling object sheathed in fade energy, he saw a trio of soldiers running down the path, back towards the bridge.

"Maker, it's the end of the world!" he heard one of them shout as they raced past the pair.

 _What was that_ , he thought, looking to Cassandra, he began, "Cassandra…?"

"It is how I said. The world has changed now." she said looking at him with as little emotion as possible. She began walking again, "We need to keep moving."

Continuing on their path, he couldn't help but notice the falling objects coming from the Breach. Were they simply objects coming from the Fade? Or were they something far more sinister?

They both began to run towards the next bridge-gate, sensing the escalating graveness of the situation. As they turned the corner, with the Breach as a background, his mark lit up again.

This was even worse than the incident in Haven. As the first sting of pain hit him, he fell down in a crumpled heap. The pain radiated throughout his entire body, causing him to spasm on the ground.

Cassandra quickly raced over to him, and tried to help him get upright, "Are you alright? The pulses are getting faster now."

"I'll be fine. Let's just try to seal the Breach." _And get rid of this Maker-forsaken mark._

They both carried on towards the gate, and they could hear the distant sound of fighting.

"The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face." the Nevarran seeker explained.

"How _did_ I survive the blast?"

"They said you… fell out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was," she answered.

They reached the gate, and peered into it to see the valley. They could see requisition officers taking supplies to other troops.

"Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes," they began to walk across the bridge, "I suppose you'll see soon enough."

As they reached the centre of the bridge, a falling ball of fade energy hit it. This caused the bridge to collapse in an explosion of energy, rubble and dust.

Both Cassandra and he fell down and hit the frozen river below, hard. As they struggled back onto their feet, another bolt of green fell down in front of them. As it struck, he felt a wave of energy escape his mark, and a form came from the blast.

 _A shade demon,_ he thought, remembering Valeria's lessons on the Fade, _they're quick and nasty_.

"Stay behind me!" Cassandra roared, sword drawn and shield held up. She then charged at the demon head-on.

He began to follow her, before he noticed the surface of the river. Green and black energy began to appear and then his mark glowed again. _Another demon? And me without a staff…_

While he could perform magic without one, combat was better suited with a staff. _Besides, I'd rather not let a seeker know of some of my tricks._

Looking around himself, he saw a basic apprentice staff lying there, along with some of the other supply boxes that fell with the bridge.

As the other demon began to form, he rushed over to grab the staff. Holding it in his grasp, he channelled his magic into it, to get a feel of the properties within it.

 _An ice-element staff? Not my preferred weapon, but it'll do._

He turned to face the demon that finally manifested in front of him. The top of the staff glowed, a bright, light blue as he charged it with his magic.

 _Another shade, terrific._

He immediately launched off a volley of icy, magical bolts that targeted the demon in front of him. As the shade continued on towards him, its gnarled grey arms reached out to claw at him, he prepared a more powerful spell at the chilled creature.

He launched the Winter's Grasp spell at the demon that first froze it in place, and then shattered it. With the demon dissipating into grey mist, he looked over to Cassandra to see that she was finishing her demon off.

"It's over now."

Walking up to her, from behind, he was shocked to suddenly find the tip of her blade at his throat.

"Drop your weapon. _Now_." she snarled at him.

He was suddenly gripped with anger, _how dare she? I just helped her!_

"Are you serious? How do you think this would have gone if I hadn't picked up this staff? I might have died, and there goes your chance of closing the Breach!" he shouted out in anger, "Besides, do you think I really need a staff to be dangerous?"

The seeker in front of him scoffed, "Is that supposed to reassure me?"

He forced himself to calm down, _this will get us both nowhere._

"I haven't used my magic on you yet."

They stared each other down, neither seeming to want to back down. Cassandra then sighed, resigned to the situation they had found themselves in, "You're right," she then sheathed her blade, "You don't need the staff, but you should have one. I cannot protect you."

She turned then, and made her way up the embankment to get out of the frozen river. As he made to follow she suddenly turned around, "I should remember that you agreed to come willingly."

They both ran up the path then, trying to make it to where Cassandra said they needed to go, nothing more needing to be said between them.

As they charged over the mound, they came across the bodies of dead pilgrims and refugees. _Poor souls, didn't reach Haven in time._

Sensing a presence near them, he looked up from where he knelt near the bodies and saw them, "Heads up Cassandra. More shades."

Cassandra looked over and saw them. The void-forsaken forms writhing and sliding across the surface below them.

"If we flank them we may get the advantage."

He began to gather his magic around him to release a powerful Chain Lightning spell at the pair of demons. This was his magic. He was always the most comfortable with Primal Magic.

As Cassandra dropped down to their level and gained their attention, he released his spell, paralysing both demons in place. Cassandra immediately set upon them with her blade, and he followed suit with a volley of his Stonefist spells.

His spell had the desired effect with the stones, larger than his own fists, pelted the shade demons and tore into them, ripping them apart.

As the demons, defeated at this point, dissipated into grey mist, they began their trek yet again towards Cassandra's end goal.

"I hadn't realised that the demon attacks were this frequent Cassandra. This is quite disturbing."

"Yes. It is a wonder that so many were able to make it to Haven with the constant attacks."

Running down the path, they encountered more demons, though were able to take them down easily enough. He found that they worked well together, even if Cassandra was wary of working with a mage.

They finally reached the bottom of a long flight of stairs leading to a pilgrimage site. At the foot of the hill, there were demons prowling around.

Along with the usual shade demons there was another kind there. Gaseous, skeletal beings, they were green in colour and floated there in the air. They seemed humanoid in appearance, with the lower-half of their bodies missing.

 _Wraiths, wonderful,_ he thought, rolling eyes, _bloody bottom feeders_.

"Be wary of the green ones. They attack from a distance." Cassandra told him, stopping at his side.

"Let's just end them fast. I can sense a lot of magic up there." he said nodding up to the summit of the hill.

Cassandra nodded, and waited for him to prime a spell. He gathered the energy needed for an earth spell. He left his staff standing there on its own, as he placed both hands on the ground.

"Brace yourself, Cassandra," he said, causing her to look at him in alarm, "This will be bumpy."

Dipping into his mana reserves, he cast his Earthquake spell. The entire area around them was flooded with his magic as it shook the very ground they stood on. He felt Cassandra, behind him, trying to stay on her feet and doing a decent job staying there.

Looking over to the demons, he saw that there were all frozen in place, the shades lying on the ground. Even the floating wraiths were affected by the spell. He grinned. _This is why I love Primal Magic._

Earth-orientated spells affected not just the land or rocks, it affected the gravity of an area to various degrees as well.

"Now Cassandra! They'll be frozen for just a moment."

He rose up and grabbed his staff and ran down towards the demons, the seeker following him swiftly. Together they dispatched the demons to the Void, and carried on up the stairs.

"I've never felt magic like that," Cassandra started as they began to run up the stairs, "Where did you learn it?"

"That was an Earthquake spell. It's quite a common earth spell. Though it is powerful."

"I have never seen earth magic like that before. I have only seen rocks being thrown and stone armour being equipped on. Never anything like that!" she looked shocked that a single mage could do that.

"You're Nevarran, Cassandra. Surely you have seen different kinds of magic back home."

"Yes, but I hadn't realised that the Ostwick Circle taught such… techniques."

He grinned over at her, hearing the slight pause in her sentence, "Why? Because we were the boring circle? The Ostwick Circle was one of the most eclectic in terms of race and magical practice."

"I didn't mean to offend you. I only meant-" she started, her face a study of remorse, before she was interrupted by the mage.

"You didn't offend me. I know how most saw Ostwick. A quaint little circle in a lesser Free Marcher city, but that's what we wanted."

The higher they got the clearer the sounds of a battle were.

"We're getting closer to the Rift. You can hear the fighting from here!" Cassandra shouted over to him, as they reached the summit.

"Who's fighting?" he yelled back.

"You'll see soon. We must help them!"

As they reached the ruins they saw a group fighting a horde of shade demons. The pair jumped down the ledge and into the fray.

Firing off wave after wave of ice magic, he noticed another mage fighting the demons alongside a dwarf with a crossbow.

He felt Cassandra at his back, using her shield to defend him as he used his magic to attack the shade demons. He then charged a Chain Lightning spell that struck multiple demons at once. The arcs of purple lighting jumping from one to another.

The group managed to fell demon after demon until finally there was only one left. The final shade faded away from the bolt that struck it. With the last demon gone, he finally acknowledged the shining green rift next to them.

He had done a valiant attempt at ignoring it. The magic coming from the rift sang to him in a way that the Fade proper never had in his dreams. It whispered to him, trying to get him to right the wrong that had been done to it.

"Quickly, before more come through!" a voice came from his left, before a hand grabbed his arm and pointed his marked hand at the rift.

A searing pain radiated from the mark as a stream of energy was released from his palm. The twisting green lights speared the rift and his connection to the Fade, which all mages have, expanded. He sensed it all, the dead crossing over, the spirits and demons that inhabit it writhing around there.

And suddenly it was gone. The rift collapsed in on itself, leaving no trace of it in the air, and he sensed nothing left of it there. With the rift gone he looked towards the other two that joined he and Cassandra.

The mage, he noted, was a bald headed elf, in ragged green and beige robes. His eyes appeared as if he saw more than just what was around them. The Fade also bent oddly around him, in a way that was disconcerting to the circle mage.

The marksman was far more interesting though. A dwarf, with tied back auburn hair, with a near obscene amount of chest on display for the cold weather of the Frostback Mountains. He has a scar on his nose, with rings piercing his ears. He seemed familiar to him, as if he had seen him somewhere before.

"What did you do?" he asked the elf.

" _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours." the elf replied, a mischievous knowledge hidden in his eyes.

 _Is he smirking?_

He flicked his eyes over to Cassandra to see her studying them both. _What is she thinking?_

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand," he looked down at the mark that was sparking slightly, "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct."

"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself." Cassandra strode over to them, new hope filling her.

"Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

"Good to know!" another voice cut in, "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."

The three looked over to see the dwarf fixing is gloves, before he looks over to them. He grinned slightly, and focused his gaze solely on him.

"Varric Tethras: Rogue, Storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." at the end of his sentence, he sent a wink towards Cassandra.

"That's… a nice crossbow you have there." he said, not sure how to respond to that introduction.

 _Wait, did he say Varric Tethras? As in 'Hard in Hightown'? Andraste's tits! It is him! Alright, alright. Calm down._

"Ah isn't she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together." the dwarf looked over his shoulder at the crossbow, a wistful look on his face. _There's a story there_.

"You named your crossbow Bianca?"

"Of course. And she'll be great company in the valley."

Cassandra stepped forward then, some hostility in her voice. _Do they know each other?_

"Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…" the scowl on her face never lessened, especially when she was cut-off by the rogue.

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." he smirked slightly at her.

Cassandra glared at him, then turned away with a disgusted noise, scoffing at the idea of her needing him.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live."

Varric chuckled, "He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'."

He looked towards his fellow mage with renewed interest. _So he knows what this mark means? About this strange magic?_

"You seem to know a great deal about it all."

"Unlike you, Solas is an apostate." _As am I now, I suppose_

Solas seemed to agree, "Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra."

He looked to him then, and continued, "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of a circle mage."

He arched his eyebrow at the not so subtle slight against the circles. _Oh really, hedge witch?_

"I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."

"What a commendable attitude to have."

"Merely a sensible one, although sense appears to be in short supply right now," he nodded to the seeker, "Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power."

She nodded in reply, "Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly."

She and Solas started down the path again into the valley. As they did, Varric came up to him and grinned.

"Well. Bianca's excited!"

They both followed the others down the path, when Varric suddenly stopped.

"Hey, we never actually got your name."

He smiled down at the dwarf, "My name is Freyjr Trevelyan, Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle of Magi."

* * *

 **Hey guys!**

 **I hope you like this chapter! Sorry it's been so long!**

 **I'm hoping that you like some of the personality that I tried to put into it.**

 **A review is always appreciated!**

 **-Beartic Baseborn**


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